


Rumor

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [16]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Parents, Child Abuse, Domestic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Series, Some family fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 18:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: On a trip to the grocers, Ruthie and her fathers encounter one of her classmates.





	Rumor

**Author's Note:**

> Set in 1987. There is a new character introduced that you will see more of in later fics (that's the plan, anyhow).
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE CANON LIFE ON MARS CHARACTERS!

“Daddy, can we please get this? Please?!” 

Sam looked down at his ten year-old as she held a brightly colored carton. He showed her the piece of notepad paper he was holding and pointed to it. “Here,” he said, “do you see ‘Arctic Roll’ on our shopping list?”

Ruthie sighed. “Ugh...no.” She frowned at him, her bottom lip slightly pouting.

He grinned at her and lightly pinched her chin. “Put it back, please, Little Gene.”

She rolled her eyes. “Daddy…” she groaned. 

“What? You look like your papa, that’s all! Now, go put it back.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to persuade him once more with a forlorn expression.

Sam saw through this, as he always did, and grinned as he shook his head.

She sighed again. “May I get some comic books, then?”

“Yes, you may,” he told her. “Stay by that section until we come get you; no wandering off, understand?”

“I know.” She trotted off to the freezers to put away the Arctic Roll.

Sam proceeded to look through fresh apples to find the brightest ones when he heard a crash of cans land in the shopping cart. He glanced at the six tin cans and then saw his husband pretending to be interested in bags of oranges.

“Gene,” Sam said, “what are you doing?”

“Hm?” he asked, looking into the cart. “Oh! They’re good for a quick lunch.”

Sam sifted through the Fray Bentos tins and sneered. “Steak and kidney pie, chicken and mushroom, beef and veg? I can make all of this for less money. This is nothing but a bunch of fat and salt.”

“So am I, but you married me anyway, right?” He giggled when Sam smirked. “Besides, you taught me to shop smarter, yeah? Well, guess what, Einstein. These were on special, six for a pound; how’s that for less money?”

“It’s not on the list,” Sam told him, “and besides, I’ve already told Ruthie she couldn’t have an Arctic Roll, so it wouldn’t be fair if I let you--”

“Why can’t she have an Arctic Roll?”

“Because we have biscuits and ice cream at home. She doesn’t need anymore sweets.”

“She’s a  _ kid _ , Sammy,” Gene pointed out. “She’s only had two cavities. Not bad for her age, if you ask me, although you acted like it was the end of the world.”

“Not true at all,” Sam retorted. “I was only concerned because she was a bit scared to get her teeth drilled.”

“And she came out of it fine, didn’t she?” Gene paused to wait for an answer but Sam only pushed the shopping cart past him to the vegetables. 

Gene followed and stood beside Sam as he compared bundles of leeks. “Why are you so tightly wound this morning?”

Sam glanced at him before putting the leeks in a bag. “I’m just…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Gene pursed his lips. “Any reason?” he asked. “Was my snoring too much?”

“I’m used to your snoring,” Sam said as he grinned. “I don’t know why.”

“Take tomorrow off,” Gene told him

“There’s too much right now. I’ll be okay; I’ll just have a kip later.”

Gene looked around the produce section. “Where’s Mouse?”

“I told her she could buy comic books instead of more sweets so that’s where she is.”

“You let her go alone?”

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes...why?”

“I’m not scolding you, love,” Gene explained, “it’s just...that’s a good thing, considering.” He licked his lips and looked around again. “Want me to go and--”

“Yes, please,” Sam said, “I think we’ve got everything we need anyway.” As Gene turned to walk away, Sam said, “She can have the Arctic Roll.”

Gene grinned and quickly stroked his hand with a gloved finger. “No, you were right; we have too much sugar. Kraft Dinner is on special, though.”

Sam smiled. “Well, macaroni and cheese has become a staple in our pantry, so why not?"

 

\--------

 

Gene found Ruthie sitting on the floor in front of the magazines reading an Asterix comic, and on her lap were new copies of Archie and Casper the Friendly Ghost.

“Hiya, love,” he said, smiling as he approached her. “Let’s go; your dad’s finishing up.”

She carefully stacked the comics in her hands as she stood. “May I buy these, Papa?”

“Have you got enough?” he asked. 

Ruthie looked at her comics again and pursed her lips. “Only enough for two of them.”

“How much altogether?”

“One pound fifty,” she said, “and I’ve only got one pound left this week.”

Gene put his hand in one of his trouser pockets and produced a one pound coin. He handed it to her. “Here you are, baby.”

She smiled and bounced happily as she took it. “Thank you, Papa!” 

“Get good marks on that maths test this week, and I’ll talk to Dad about raising your allowance. I think it’s time, anyhow.”

 

\------

 

They exited the store and walked into the car park, each of them carrying a paper bag of groceries. Ruthie stayed close to Gene as they walked to Sam’s Fiat Cabriolet where Sam was opening the boot. 

“Shouldn’t have gotten blue, Gladys,” Gene quipped, gently tapping the car. “Easily shows dirt.”

Sam grinned, taking Gene’s paper bag. “You’re right, Guv” he said, “your Quattro’s a good color to hide dirt. Not so much the dent, though.”

“Oi!” Gene blurted as Sam closed the boot. “That wasn’t my fault. The other car was too big for the spot it was in.”

“Either that or your parallel parking is crap.”

“You feel that way why you letting me drive  _ your _ poofy car?”

Sam playfully pulled on Gene’s tie. “To save your manly reputation, Gene Tyler.”

“Don’t ever let that pass through your lips again...Samuel Hunt.”

Sam laughed as Gene walked past him to the driver side, playfully bumping his shoulder with his. 

“Can we put the top down, Daddy?” Ruthie asked as she buckled her seatbelt. 

Sam sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. “Papa’s the one driving, love,” he said.

“Answer’s no,” Gene told them. “It’ll muss up the mane.”

“Papa, please?” Ruthie asked with a sweet smile.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught her expression. Gene let out an exaggerated sigh, pretending to be put upon. “Well...since you asked nicely.”

He cranked the Fiat and Ruthie watched as the roof slowly lifted up and folded in on itself. Sam had bought the car almost a year ago, but Ruthie never tired of opening the roof. Gene, on the other hand, felt as if his husband was trying to challenge him in the car department and couldn’t help but try to find the minutest defects when Sam first brought it home.

“There’s a flaw in the paint,” he had pointed out.

Sam sighed. “No, Guv, that’s your reflection.”

Gene pulled out of the parking space with ease and drove toward the car park exit. Sam noticed, as they passed a green Land Rover, a little girl about Ruthie’s age, her long brown hair in a ponytail. Her back was pressed against the car with her eyes cast down as a man stood over her, aggressively pointing his finger in her face. The girl had her arms crossed over her chest and Sam frowned as they passed the car, but his eyes widened when the scolding man put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and pushed her so hard that she bounced against the Rover.

“Stop the car, Gene,” Sam commanded.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Stop the car!”

Gene pressed hard on the brake, and they jolted forward. “What is it?”

“Back up to that Rover.”

Gene didn’t ask but he reversed until they were once again behind the car, and now the man was shouting in the little girl’s face as he pushed her again.

Sam immediately got out and walked over to the commotion. Gene and Ruthie watched in silence.

“Is there a problem?” Sam asked the man in a rigid voice.

“Mind your business,” the man growled.

“Threatening a child in public is everyone’s business,” Sam replied, “especially mine.”

“How I punish my kid is of no concern to anyone! Get your nosy, scrawny arse back in your car before I lay you out!”

Sam reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his badge.

The man turned white as a sheet and immediately straightened as he patted his daughter’s head. “Oh...sorry, sir!” he said, “Didn’t know you was a copper. It’s just it’s been a tough week and this one’s been giving me lip all day and--”

Sam ignored him and looked down at the little girl. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said in a calm voice. The girl instantly walked over to him and Sam knelt to her level. “Are you alright?”

She nodded but didn’t look at him. Instead, when she raised her eyes, she saw that Ruthie was looking back at her from the car.

Ruthie gave her a small wave and the girl returned it. “You’re Ruthie’s Daddy?” she whispered.

Sam smiled. “That’s right,” he answered. “Are you mates?”

She shrugged. “We’re in the same classroom. She...she draws pretty pictures.”

“That she does. What’s your name, love?”

The man interjected. “Her name’s Rebecca.”

“I’m asking  _ her _ ,” Sam told him. 

“Beckie,” she said.

“That’s a very pretty name.” Sam leaned in closer and whispered, “Do you know how to call the police station?” She nodded. “What’s the number?”

“999,” she said. 

“Good girl. Now, if your dad does that to you again, or anything like that, you have every right to call me at the station, using that number. Do you understand, love?”

Beckie lowered her eyes again and nodded, her bottom lip pouting. “But...what if…?”

Sam waited for her to continued but all she could say, in an even lower whisper, was, “Thank you, Mr. Tyler-Hunt.”

“Call me Sam,” he said, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat. He stood and escorted her back to her father. “Name,” he asked him.

“Robbie,” the man replied.

“You got a surname?”

He shifted his eyes and looked at Gene. The man nodded his head toward him. “Didn’t know coppers had chauffeurs,” he said in a loud voice.

Gene produced his own badge and glared at him. “He asked your surname,” he said.

The man sneered. “Thompson,” he muttered. He glanced over to Ruthie, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “She have a bloody badge, too?”

Sam glowered as he stepped closer to him. “You keep your eyes off her,” he threatened.

“Tyler,” came Gene’s voice behind him. 

Sam stopped and glared at Thompson before looking down at Beckie to give her another grin. He raised his eyes to her father once more. “Behave yourself,” he warned him.

Thompson didn’t reply but only softly put his hand on Beckie’s back and guided her past Sam. “Come on, Becks,” he said, still locking eyes on Sam as they walked away.

Sam got back into the car and he and Gene watched until they had entered to grocers. They drove out of the car park, and Ruthie looked back at the shops.

 

\--------

 

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

Sam was sitting on Ruthie’s bedside, having just tucked her in under her blanket with Bertram in the crook of her arm.

“Um...well,” Ruthie said, “you remember when you and Papa told me about rumors?”

“Hm, yeah I do remember that,” Sam replied, “how they’re not always true?”

“Yeah, well...there’s a rumor about...Beckie.”

Sam moved closer to her. “And what is it?”

Ruthie shifted on her back and squeezed Bertram. “I don’t want it to be true,” she said. “I hope it’s a fib. The other kids talk about it.”

“What’s the rumor, baby?”

“That...Beckie’s mummy and daddy are mean to her. That...that they hit her.” Ruthie sniffed and took a deep breath. “I’ve seen a bruise on her arm before, but I only thought it was from playing outside, but after today…”

Sam stroked Ruthie’s forehead. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m glad we did though, or you wouldn’t have helped her.” 

“Even if I wasn’t a copper,” Sam said, “I would have still intervened.”

“I know, Daddy. Because you’re kind and you’re also brave.”

Sam smiled. “Brave, am I?”

Ruthie nodded. “That’s what Papa told me, after my story. He said that what you did was very brave, and that you’re brave every day, and Papa said he’s proud of you.”

He suddenly giggled. “Your papa said that? About me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t he?” she asked, giggling as well.

Sam could feel his cheeks begin to flush and he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Time for sleep, baby girl.”

She nodded and turned onto her side, snuggling Bertram to her stomach. “Night, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Night night, darling.”

Sam closed her door and walked down the stairs. Gene’s chair was empty, but the television was playing the evening news. He then heard the tea kettle whistling and found Gene in the kitchen making tea for the both of them.

“Milk?” Gene asked Sam, who sat himself at the dinner table. 

“Yeah, just a bit, please.”

Gene soon joined him, handing him his tea. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Ta,” Sam muttered. He lifted the cup to his lips and gently blew across the hot liquid.

“You okay?”

Sam nodded and sipped his tea. He sighed as he set down the cup. “Ruthie told me something quite unpleasant.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “About the girl today.”

“I think I know what it is.” Gene leaned his chin into his fist. “We can’t do anything about it right now, Sammy.”

“I know.”

Gene gazed at Sam before reaching out his hand and placing it on his knee. “What did you sing tonight?”

Sam snapped out of his quiet. “Oh, we didn’t have a song,” he said. “She didn’t seem like she wanted one.”

“Well...I want one.”

He raised his eyes to Gene, who was grinning at him, a cheeky gleam in his eyes. Sam giggled. “Songs are for bedtime,” he teased. “You know that.”

Gene moved his chair closer and nuzzled Sam’s ear with the tip of his nose. “Let’s go to bed, then.”

“My tea will get cold.”

Gene rolled his eyes and purred against his neck. “Drink up, then. I want a song.”

Sam smiled and turned to Gene, lightly kissing his lips. “Any special requests?”

“Mmm, ‘Big Iron.’”

“Gene,” Sam groaned, hiding his face in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No Marty Robbins.”

“What’s wrong with Marty Robbins?”

“His voice is too low and his songs last twenty minutes!”

“Hey, now, you asked for special requests,” Gene reminded him. “Well, that’s what I want: a nice, decades-long cowboy ballad.” He kissed Sam’s cheek. “Tell you what,” he mumbled against him, “I’ll settle for a dirty limerick.”

Sam laughed as he lifted his head. He thought for a moment and then giggled again. “A limerick, eh? Here: there was a Young Man from Kent, whose rod was so long it bent.” He paused as Gene snorted against his temple. “So to save himself trouble, he bent it in double, and instead of coming – he went!”

Gene let out a boisterous laugh and Sam's hand darted to his mouth to shush him. “Shhh, Guv,” Sam whispered, trying to hold in his own snickering. “You’ll wake Ruthie.”


End file.
